


Unexpected

by TheRedWulf



Series: Stansa One Shots [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Stannis Slays Some Wights, romantic, stansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 13:13:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19426690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRedWulf/pseuds/TheRedWulf
Summary: AU - In which Stannis marches North to Winterfell to fight a war, but loses his heart instead.





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of Stansa nonsense, angst free. Takes place in GoT universe, but I divert from canon, as you will see. Sansa is aged up, smarter and less naive, because reasons. This is from Stannis' perspective and I could be persuaded to write the inverse for Sansa if you guys like this.   
> Picset can be found [Here!](https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/post/185989160881/if-it-was-possible-she-had-grown-even-more?is_related_post=1#notes%20/)
> 
> Once again, I don't fancy myself a writer, but I enjoy fiddling with the characters. This fic is un-beta'd so I apologize for any errors. 
> 
> This is for my fellow Stansa shippers, especially those who have been so supportive so far. I love you guys.

It was not what he expected, this life. In many ways it was more. More than he deserved, more than he would have hoped for. He hadn’t always thought it as much. In truth, for many years he lived each day in bitter disappointment and resentment. 

He was born the second son of a great house, the image of his stern father. His brothers often joked that he was born an old man, always so serious and dour. After the death of their parents, an event that had scarred the brothers deeply, Robert retreated to his whores and Renly to his dalliances. Stannis chose books. Their knowledge molding his young mind and giving him the education he would eventually need to win wars. 

And win wars he did. He survived hell beside his brother during his Rebellion. His entitled brother was heartbroken, and as such thrust the realm into chaos. Stannis, ever stalwart, did his duty. He fought hard, he survived and in the end watched his brother take the Iron Throne.

Stannis’ reward? A body heavily scarred and a political marriage to the most insufferable woman he had ever met. She hated him on sight, disappointed he was not his kingly brother and that she would wear no crown. Their marriage was filled with her hateful comments and complaints of how Dragonstone, his damp, miserable estate was bad for her health. 

He would not forgive himself the relief he felt when her health did indeed suffer and she was taken by fever less than six moons into their marriage. “She is finally free of me” he had quipped to Ser Davos, a man who had stood at his side through the worst hells imaginable. 

It took no time for Robert to begin his push for Stannis to make another advantageous marriage. Advantageous, of course, for the realm and not Stannis himself. The Baratheon name needed sons, Robert would insist, the seed is strong, go plant it. 

Stannis refused to succumb to another political alliance with a cold marriage bed and a simpering fool of a Southern bride. His focus was on rebuilding and restoring Dragonstone. If he was to be saddled with an estate not his ancestral home, he would see to it he improved the castle. 

Along the way he quelled rebellions, worked closely with the Lord Commander of the Night’s Watch and communicated often with Eddard Stark in regards to keeping the North settled. It was because of this that he found himself at Winterfell. The dead had risen, and as the Starks had promised, winter was coming. Lord Stark had written to Robert and Stannis, telling them that soon the Stark bannermen and their armies would ride to the wall, to put an end to this scourge on the land. Ever dutiful, and now at the age of nine and thirty, Stannis donned Lightbringer once more to defend the kingdom.

Eddard Stark, Ned, was a loyal Northern man, integral to the Rebellion and his brother Robert’s closest friend. In the past there had been resentment between the two men; partially on Stannis fault, as he saw that Ned was closer to his brother than he would ever be. But the Rebellion had made equals of them all and during their time under siege they set aside quarrels to focus on their duty to the realm. Ned was a good fighter in war time and in peace time he was a dedicated father.

Had he known that everything would change the moment he rode through the gates, he wondered what he might have done. Run? Rode faster towards the inescapable? He does not know. He only knows that when he arrived, everything did indeed change. So here he sat atop his stallion looking at their destination; Winterfell. The sprawling keep towered above the snowy terrain, the Stark banners waving in the wind. 

Ordering the bulk of their troops to setup camp outside the keep’s walls, Stannis, Ser Davos and the other commanders rode to the grand gates. 

But her….

He saw her on the ramparts as they approached. A shock of fiery hair as vibrant as the sun. She wore a black cloak, and a well fitted grey gown, the perfect picture of Northern beauty. He found he could not move his eyes from her as they rode through, their eye contact broken only when he crossed under where she stood. 

Then she was there, standing with Lord Stark as he greeted them, grateful for the arrival of his army. She was even more stunning up close, standing proudly beside her Lady Mother, already taller than her siblings and nearly as tall as Ned. A proud Tully beauty forged of Northern steel, he decided. He’d never seen such a beauty, let alone a woman so tall. It made his own great height feel less imposing. For the first time in his life, he was captivated. 

Lady Sansa Stark, the first woman to tempt the Stoic Stag. 

That evening at dinner he was surprised to find he was seated beside her, and judging by his reaction Lord Stark was surprised as well. She had removed her cloak and wore only the fitted grey dress, her intricate chain necklace in place. Her hair seemed to be living fire in the candlelight and he could only hope he did not embarrass himself during the meal. 

“My Lord” she said softly, but confidently. “Forgive me, but I have recently read an account of the Siege of Storm’s End and I was hoping to ask a few questions.”

You could have knocked him out of his boots with a feather he was so surprised that THIS was what the Lady wanted to discuss at dinner. Clearing his throat he looked to Davos who gave him an encouraging nod, “Of course, though I confess I am surprised such topics would be to your interest.”

“Sansa has quite a sharp, military mind” Lord Stark stated plainly. 

“Never stops reading, so boring” the younger Stark daughter, Arya rolled her eyes dramatically. 

“I have always found that reading allows you to go anywhere, travel time and distance to experience that which would be impossible” Sansa reasoned with a smile, her Tully blue eyes alight with passion. 

“Well said, Lady Sansa” he could only reply as her passionate words echoed what he had felt since boyhood, hiding in books to escape his own world. He felt his mouth twitch in an unfamiliar way, twist into a ghost of a smile as he fell irrevocably in love with Lady Sansa Stark. 

Throughout his sennight in Winterfell, he spent his days with Lord Stark, Davos and the other commanders, creating a plan that they would carry out once they arrived at the Wall. They would have to go to the Far North, take the enemy on their turf to prevent their arrival in Westeros.

As a family man, however, Lord Stark never worked late into the evenings, choosing instead to share the evening meal with his family in the hall. This meant that Stannis had many opportunities to sit beside Lady Sansa at dinner, which she always seemed to be seated beside him. They talked of books, battles and histories, and when the meal seemed to be too short for their conversation, they would move to the chairs beside the great fireplace to continue. Her siblings and parents were usually there, propriety demanded as such, but he could not help but feel as if they were the only two people in the world. 

For a young woman of ten and eight she was surprisingly well spoken and well read. Her knowledge was vast, covering a variety of topics and when she spoke, she had such passion that was impossible to ignore. She would smile, laugh, waving her hands to emphasize story points or to argue a topic. He could only watch in rapt fascination as she did so. 

Occasionally, he would see Lord Stark giving them a slight frown, or Davos smirking into his ale cup but he paid them no mind. He was determined to enjoy what he could before war called him away. A war he may very well not survive. 

The morning of their departure found him loathe to leave. He wished to remain at her side, but the army of the dead would not wait. He strode to the courtyard with renewed determination. If he had to leave for this war, then he would win it and return. He would at the very least protect her until his dying breath. 

As Lord and Lady Stark shared a private moment Stannis moved to his stallion, surprised when her fiery hair appeared beside him. 

“My Lord” she looked close to tears, her blue eyes full of such sadness. “I wish you well, please be safe.”

“I will do my best, My Lady” he replied softly, watching as she produced a small parcel from the folds of her cloak, extending it to him. “My Lady..”

“For later” she placed it in his hand, her gloves fingers lingering on his before they parted. 

“I shall endeavour to return” he promised. “And I shall treasure your gift” he tucked it into the pouch at his waist. 

“Goodbye, My Lord” she curtsied gratefully and moved back to stand with her Lady Mother. The signal was given then, to depart, and with only the sound of hoof falls to accompany them, they joined the armies outside the keep’s walls and rode North. 

“I may not be a cunning man, Stannis” Lord Stark said later that day, the two men now riding side by side. The army behind them was a mix of wolves and flaming stags, an imposing sight to behold on the snowy plains. “But I am fairly observant.” He continued when Stannis frowned at his direction of conversation, “Survive this war, Baratheon, and I may just let you marry my daughter” Stark smirked. 

“Lord Stark” he swallowed thickly. “I--”

“I have known you nearly all my life, since we were boys at the very least” Ned spoke plainly. “I have fought beside you, nearly died beside you and made a man King beside you. But never have I seen you smile. Not until a sennight ago, when you looked at Sansa as she spoke of books.”

“Ned…”

“You are an honorable man, not a seducer or drinker, never cruel or cowardly” he nodded. “And for some reason she has her heart set on you. And while I am loathe to lose her, I could not think of entrusting her to a more worthy man.”

Stannis felt his mouth fall agape in shock as Ned’s words nearly unhorsed him. Sansa had spoken of him to her father, she had made her wishes known. 

“Rest easy, Baratheon” Ned smiled, his eyes filled only with kindness. “And do not for a second think to call me ‘Father’.”

“Would not dream of it” he could only reply as he processed all of what Stark had revealed. 

That night, alone in his small tent with only a single candle to cast light, he opened the parcel from Sansa, nearly choking on the emotion he felt at its contents. Inside the coarse paper was a soft grey handkerchief that smelled vaguely of lavender, of her, and within its folds was a lock of fiery red hair, tied with a black silk ribbon. A favor, her favor, the first he had ever received. He touched the silken lock with his calloused hands, wishing that instead he could touch the source of such perfection. To hold her and never let her go. 

Soon he told himself, first he had a war to win.

If it was possible, she had grown even more beautiful in the many moons they had been gone. Today as the armies returned to Winterfell, victorious over the Army of the Dead, she was once more on the ramparts, clad in all black, fiery hair a beacon that called to him.

Their war was won, though not without great losses. But they had ensured the Seven were safe for at least a short while. Lord Stark, anxious to be home sped his mounts gate as they grew closer and Stannis could not help but do the same. 

The moment Ned dismounted, Lady Stark was in his arms, their younger children bouncing around their feet. Stannis dismounted, turning in time to see her as she approached. Her smile was heartstopping as she stood at his stallion’s head. 

“My Lord” she greeted, taking his gloved hands in her own. He held her fingers tight, feeling the warmth sink into his cold and weary bones. Standing here, in her presence was what had driven him to fight so hard, to win the war quickly so that he could be back with her.

“My Lady” he replied, unable to form words beyond that. 

“Come” she ushered him towards the Keep. “Tonight there is to be a celebration.”

That evening, as the hall echoed with the beginnings of music and revelry, Stannis stood near the fire, now cleanly bathed and changed into a black and gold doublet, grateful to be free of his armor. When he returned to Dragonstone, he would likely rid himself of the beard that had helped keep him warm in the Far North. 

He jumped when Lord Stark clapped him on the shoulder with a knowing smile, “Well, what are you waiting for?” 

“Lord Stark--”

“You have my permission, Baratheon. She has made her choice clear. As I said, if it has to be anyone, I am glad it is you. I could not ask for better” Ned assured him. “So go and get her, she will be in the Godswood this time of day.”

Suddenly nervous, he picked at his sleeves as he wove through the stone halls and into the night air. The Weirwood tree was not hard to locate once he was outside and he soon found himself looking at the beautiful form of ‘His Lady’ as she silently prayed. 

It was not what he expected from this war, for his life, he mused as he watched her stand, the red leaves a perfect match for her hair. He never expected to march North to a war against the dead only to lose his heart in Winterfell. Years of his brother’s incessant pestering to marry, years of refusal made sense now, as he would have none but her. 

“Stannis” she smiled as she noticed him, the sound of his name on her lips gave him courage. 

“Lady Sansa--Sansa,” he moved forward to take her hands. “I know I am neither young nor handsome, but I would--I would protect you, care for you and love you all of your days if you would consent---if you would do me the honor of consenting to be my bride.”

“Nothing would make me happier,” she said softly as a few tears escaped her crystalline eyes. Carefully he wiped them away, realizing it was the first time he had touched her without the barrier of his gloves, and the smooth silk of her cheek was warm to his touch. She moved closer, her arms banding around the solid wall of his torso and his arms automatically moved to hold her tight. One hand carded into her hair, cradling her closely as he trailed kisses atop the crown of her head. 

This woman, this beautiful creature was his to keep. His queen of love and beauty. His. 

Setting his quill aside, he stood and crossed to the balcony where she stood looking out at the sea. She had asked him once to tell her of the sea and now every day she could look upon its beauty. They had wed in the Godswood at Winterfell before he returned South. She had looked stunningly beautiful in the dove grey gown adorned with an embroidered direwolf, her smile luminous as Lord Stark entrusted her to his care. 

He had nearly cried as he placed the cloak of black across her shoulders, the flaming stag emblazoned on the back blending in perfectly with her hair. His bride was without argument the most beautiful bride in history. 

They passed a sennight in Winterfell, more time than decorum dictated locked away in the large chambers they have been given in the North tower. She bid her family goodbye, smiling and sharing hugs before he helped her onto her mare, a wedded gift from her Lord Father. The two men exchanged handshakes and claps on the back, no words needed to be spoken, Ned knew that Stannis would protect her. 

By the time they reached Dragonstone, there was a raven from Robert waiting. Shocked but congratulatory, his brother encouraged him to do his duty to their titles. In this Stannis needed no encouragement. 

“My Love” he kissed her neck as he wrapped his arms around her from behind. She leaned against him, as she always did, her body seemed to always gravitate closer to his. He pulled her abundant hair to the side, nuzzling the slender curve of her neck while his other hand settled possessively over the barely there swell of their child. Married six moons past and she was already with child. Let it not be said he did not do his duty. In truth he reveled in it.

“Are your letters done, Lord Baratheon” she asked softly, relaxing against his strength as he held her. 

“Indeed, Lady Baratheon” he trailed a kiss to her shoulder, grateful the cut of her gown bared just a hint of her collarbone. 

“Good, we can retire for the evening,” she whispered softly. 

“Sounds divine” he deftly turned her to lift her into his arms, her own arms went around his neck and shoulders and she laughed. Though tall, she was slender and he found that he had some strength left in him yet. She placed her forehead against his temple as he carried her to their chambers, more than willing to let the duty of the realm wait until tomorrow. Afterall, his duty to his wife was much more important.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr for pic sets and more shenanigans!  
> @the-red-wolf or https://the-red-wulf.tumblr.com/


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